


The English Spy

by Cartara, GalahadWilder



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Chaotic Good Félix, Child Abuse, Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting, Gen, Physical Abuse, canon Felix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cartara/pseuds/Cartara, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadWilder/pseuds/GalahadWilder
Summary: When Félix Graham de Vanily broke into the Agreste Mansion the second time, he expected it to be empty. He didn't expect to run into Gabriel.Given the way Gabriel seems to think that Félix is Adrien, Félix may have to revise his opinion of his cousin.
Comments: 36
Kudos: 723





	The English Spy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [15MegapixelsMLB's Prompts Anonymous Event](https://15megapixels-mlb.tumblr.com/post/613621737706471424/few-weeks-ago-i-organized-a-slow-paced-mini-event). Galahad wrote the story based on the prompt "Mistaken Identity" and Cartara illustrated.

Félix Graham de Valiny walks into the “Agreste” Manor prepared. He’s worked everything out—Adrien is at a photoshoot with that appalling liar, so the chance of his cousin becoming a distraction is practically nothing. Unless Adrien runs away, which he has already demonstrated he’s too weak to do. Uncle Gabriel—for as much as that man deserves to be called “Uncle”—is out of town; he and his assistant drove to the airport hours ago, and with Gabriel having dismissed so much of his staff out of paranoia when Auntie Emelie vanished, Félix basically has the house to himself.

He doesn’t even bother to disguise himself, or even hide from the cameras, as he walks in the front door. This is _his_ house, paid for with _his_ family’s money, not that snake who dares call himself a designer. _His_ birthright.

One ring still missing. Félix doesn’t believe Emilie just _walked_ away, and while his mother isn’t always the most accepting of what she fondly calls his “conspiracy theories,” she’s appreciative enough of his intellect and drive to give him the opportunity to check. So here he is, sneaking into his Aunt’s home, trying to find if there’s any record of where Gabriel hid the body. He tries to fight down the little thrill he feels at the invasion; it’s like one of those spy movies his father always loved to show him. Despite the seriousness of the moment, he can’t help feeling like a young James Bond.

He goes to his uncle’s home office first. The door is locked, of course, but that’s hardly an obstacle; he unfolds his tie clip into a lockpick, and with a quick twist, he’s inside.

The office is, like his aunt’s husband, a strange blend of spartan and opulent that mixes all of the worst parts of both. There’s a horrific, nine-foot-tall abstract painting of his aunt, right behind the standing desk on a goddamn _proscenium stage_ and in between two heavily curtained windows; the cubist mishmash of black and yellow makes him want to vomit through his eyes.

Let’s see—desk, no. His uncle is stupid, but not _that_ stupid. Hidden safe? Where would he put a hidden safe if _he_ were Gabriel Agreste?

Ugh. Probably behind the painting. He wouldn’t be surprised, his aunt practically married a supervillain.

He takes a step toward the painting, but then he hears a telltale clunk of an… _elevator?_

He turns right, and sees one of the side doors creak open, and a man who looks surprisingly like his own father steps out, adjusting his cravat—then they lock eyes, and both of them freeze.

Félix blinks. He’s studied the architectural designs of the Manor, and that door _definitely_ should have led to a hallway, yet there are very _definitely_ elevator cables behind his Aunt’s husband.

Gabriel’s eyes narrow. “Adrien,” he says, his voice dripping with barely-concealed anger. “You’re supposed to be at a photoshoot right now.”

Two thoughts slam into each other simultaneously in Félix’s head. The first is _You’re not supposed to be here either, ass, I_ **_saw_ ** _you take the car to the airport_ , and the second is _Bitch, do I_ **_look_ ** _like Adrien to you?_ with a sudden, intense awareness of how different his hair, demeanor, and mode of dress are from his cousin. But he’s so stuck on which one to say _first_ that he ends up saying _neither_ for a half-second, and in that half-second, Gabriel straightens.

“Apparently,” he says, “I have been giving you too much freedom.”

Félix Graham de Vanily prides himself on how well he reads people. He’s always been perceptive, always been able to figure out emotions, motivations, and right now his Aunt’s husband is setting off _alarm bells_ in his head.

Too much freedom? _Adrien?_

Something here is _very_ wrong, and Félix has a sneaking, horrifying suspicion that he might know where his cousin’s inability to say no comes from.

“This misbehavior stops _now_ ,” Gabriel says, and Félix realizes that he has only seconds to act before the man—who doesn’t seem to be able to recognize his own _son_ —does something horrible. And… possibly… _juicy._

Félix quickly reaches into his pocket and taps the button on his father’s pen. Spy pen. One hour of sound recording time, emptied out this morning.

“Your friends are clearly a bad influence on you,” Gabriel says, stepping forward, looming in the way that only the spindly designer can. “If you cannot fill your obligations, then you need to learn to focus on what is truly important. You will not be seeing them anymore.”

“There’s always school,” Félix snorts, before remembering that he’s trying to pretend to be his cousin. If Gabriel figures it out, he’ll blow the whole—

“No, there isn’t,” Gabriel snaps, his face tight, like an animal trying to hold itself in a cage. “You know as well as I do that I never signed the papers to get you into that school, and I only let you _stay_ because I hoped that socializing with some of your peers might _teach_ you something about how to behave like a civilized person instead of such a disappointment.” Gabriel stalks forward, and for the first time, Félix feels his chest grow tight as he realizes that this man—that his Aunt’s husband—is far less like Félix’s father than he had ever believed. He’s an animal. Feral.

Félix is frozen, rooted to the spot. “Civilizes?” he breathes.

Suddenly, Gabriel’s hand—“Do _not_ talk back to me,” the man snarls.

Felix’s cheek is burning. His whole body is shaking. And there’s a small bar of stinging—his mind is stuck on one thing. That hand has a ring. The ring he’d _stolen_ from his aunt’s husband last month.

Gabriel still has the other one.

Félix can taste the blood in his mouth. He grits his teeth, sucks in his cheek, and glares up at Gabriel.

“You’d strike another man’s son?” he spits, thickening his English accent as he speaks, making it as obvious as he can that he isn’t Adrien.

Gabriel freezes, then his eyes widen as he takes an involuntary step back. “Félix?” he says.

This is his moment. While Gabriel is distracted.

Félix bolts for the door, leaving his Aunt’s husband speechless in the mansion office.

* * *

He can’t bring himself to listen to the full recording—he feels something wrong in his body, all shaky, as he thinks about that moment near the end. But he can’t help smiling as he listens to the audio from his pen on the computer in the hotel business center—it’s muffled, but crystal clear.

And with all the paparazzi in his cousin’s life, he knows _exactly_ which reporter to send it to.


End file.
